Nightfall Without a Star
by Ms Whatsit
Summary: After Aragorn's death, Arwen and Legolas discuss their grief and hope.


Nightfall Wthout a Star

Arwen shivered as she felt the rough caress of the salty wind against her face. Her hair writhed and twisted with each rush of air, coiling darkly out into the pale grey sky. With eyes blank and lightless she stared into the swirling mist.

So absorbed was she that she did not hear the nearby door creak open, or the light step of an intruder into her bleak small world of wind and sky and hair.

"Arwen?" The voice was soft, lilting.

"Legolas." Arwen turned her head to meet the leaf-green gaze.

"I came to tell you that all arrangements have been made." The words fell from his lips, stark and uncompromising as the reality to which they referred. "He will be buried on the morrow, if that be your wish."

Arwen drew a sharp breath. "That is well, then." She lowered her face and eyes, and her face tightened as if with great effort, but then it gave way and a choked wail escaped her. And then another, and then another, deep shuddering sobs that seemed to tear out of her with a will of their own. She felt the pressure of Legolas's hand on her shoulder, turned her face upwards to see the look in his eye and felt herself shake with another storm of tears.

He drew her close to him and they wept together, quivering with the force of the same ancient grief.

Finally they quieted. Legolas drew slowly away, taking her hands in his. Arwen looked at him but could not long endure his gaze; her eyes fell.

"I was not yet weary of Middle-earth," she whispered. "Not yet. I loved it still and wished to linger." Her fingers tightened on his, and her voice rose and hardened. "And yet now without Estel I love it not."

"You will sail over the Sea, then?"

"Nay, I cannot." She paused, and her face grew taut. "I made the choice that was my right as a half-elf, and now I must abide the Doom of Men." Arwen looked again at Legolas. "I am as any mortal woman now, my friend. I surrendered my right to stand in the Undying Lands at the time I married Estel. I gave my place to Frodo, and I will die here alone, sundered from all my kin."

Her voice was laced with bitterness and weighted with sorrow, and Legolas flinched. "Yet you are descended from Elrond, from Earendil, from Luthien herself," he said. "Your line is one for which so many exceptions have been made, and so many of the mighty would plead on your behalf. Even if you must remain mortal, you might still live out your days in Valinor as Frodo did, with your father and the rest of your kin."

"Nay." Arwen smiled, and her smile seemed more heartsick than tears. "Nay, Legolas. The Valar do not treat such matters lightly. I chose to become as one of the race of Men, to give up eternal life and with it my place in the Undying Lands. Neither my lineage nor any request, no matter how mighty the asker, will give me the right to undo this."

The winds howled and the mists took haunting, spectral shapes.

Legolas laughed suddenly, a laugh as sharp and cold as his knife. "So," he said with dark mirth. "You, granddaughter of Galadriel of Aman, must remain on Middle-earth until the end of your days. Whilst I, grandson of the tree-loving Oropher, must sail over the Sea. And we each come to our fate for the love of mortals. Had I not accompanied my friends to Pelargir…" He trailed off, met Arwen's eyes and twisted his lips into a queer sort of half-smile. "'Tis the price we must pay, I suppose, the price the Firstborn has always paid for this joy."

Arwen's eyes brimmed once more, dark cauldrons of a smoldering brew of love and grief and regret. "You will sail, then?"

"Aye," said Legolas. "I will, when I have built a ship."

Arwen hesitated before asking the question that grew heavy in her heart. "How will you bear it, Legolas?" Her tears threatened to overcome her once more, and with great difficulty she held them back. "You who have mourned so many mortal friends—how will you bear parting with Gimli? Do you feel as my husband did, that it is better to part ere growing old and sickly? Do you…" Arwen took a great gulp of air and continued. "Do you not feel that you must clutch at every last moment that you have together?"

Legolas looked at his companion, whose tears were now coursing down her face and whose body shook with silent sobs.

"I…" He stopped, and Arwen waited. "I do not intend to part from him," he said.

"But you said you would sail for Valinor," Arwen said, bewildered.

"And I spoke truly."

"Then…?" Her face stilled and her eyes grew wide with shocked understanding. "You mean…" He nodded, and she gasped. "Legolas, this is madness!" His face was unmoving. "No Dwarf has ever entered the Undying Lands!"

"And no Dwarf has ever been so loved by an Elf."

"That is different," she snapped. "The Valar will never permit this, Legolas. You know it well. Your ship will be dashed to the bottom of the Sea."

"If that happens, then so be it," said Legolas quietly. "Gimli will reach very soon the end of his days. He is as willing to die trying to reach the Undying Lands as he is to perish of old age in Middle-Earth. And I will die with him, rather than live where he is denied entry." Arwen shivered; the Wood-elf's voice held cold clear certainty.

"So you set yourself against the laws of the Valar?" Arwen sighed. "That is a losing battle, my friend."

"Then Gimli and I will lose it together." Flinty words, slicing through the air. Legolas smiled then, and his tone changed. "But I do not think it completely hopeless, all the same."

"Legolas…" Arwen began, her voice hesitant and cautious. "The right to stand in Valinor is not given to mortals. Meriadoc and Peregrin were not offered this gift. It was not even offered to Estel—in fact my father told me not to hope for it, for it could not be. If such a thing were possible, do you not think that we would have sailed ere Estel's death, to bid goodbye to my kin?" She watched his face carefully, but it was as carved ivory, pristine and immovable. "Only the Ringbearers were so honored, and then in part because I gave my own place to Frodo. How can you hope for this for Gimli?"

"I do not say that there is much hope," said Legolas. "But there is hope all the same. The Valar have broken their laws in the past."

"'Tis a fool's hope, Legolas."

"Perhaps I am a fool. But if that is so, then I would not be wise if I could." His hands clenched into fists at his side, hands that once had drawn arrow against a Marshal of the Riddermark with all his company.

"It may come to pass," allowed Arwen, doubt strong and thick in her voice. "Yet even if the Valar allow this, you must still part from Gimli in the end." Her cloudy eyes looked into his shining ones. "He is mortal, Legolas."

Legolas looked at her for a moment before turning his gaze away into the mist. "Legolas?" The Wood-elf still gave no answer. "Legolas, you know this to be true. You cannot change this."

He stood for a while, tall and silent as a tree. When he finally spoke his voice was low and trembling.

"Have you never heard the ending of the tale of Tuor and Idril?"

Arwen stared, unbelieving.

"You cannot…" She gave a hoarse, quiet laugh. "You surely cannot…but it is madness! Legolas, you cannot hope for that!"

"I can and I do." His voice was hard. "If the tale is not mere legend, if the Valar can grant immortality to Tuor, then why can they not for Gimli? And indeed, 'twould be much easier for Gimli than for Tuor, for Dwarves do not partake of the Gift of Men, and their souls do not leave the circles of the world when they die. They remain in Arda, in the Halls of Mandos according to their own lore. It is said that Elves who go to Mandos can be embodied once more in the Undying Lands, so why not Dwarves? If this be madness, then call me mad, for I will hope until I am denied."

"And what happens if you are denied—_when_ you are denied?" Her words lashed out like a whip.

"I…I know not exactly," said Legolas slowly. "But I believe it to be true that

Dwarves go to the Halls of Mandos when they die, as Elves do, though lore has it that they reside in a separate section. If need be…" He sucked in a breath and ploughed on. "If need be, I will follow him, and we shall find a way to cross the divide between the Elves and the Dwarves."

Arwen shook her head. Her face was bloodless and her eyes deadened. She gazed at Legolas, who seemed to burn against the misty sky like a flame doggedly fighting the winds, and whose eyes smoldered like green embers. "You hope for so much, with so little reason to strengthen your faith."

The fierce stare turned to her. "Did you not do the same for Aragorn?"

"Nay, my lot was different. The laws of the Valar give me the right to choose between the life of an Elf and the life of a mortal, as they do for all of the Half-elven. But you, my friend," Arwen looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. "You seek to bend the laws of the Valar, to have an exception made for yourself and him who you love. I marvel at you, for that is an aim so mighty that those who dared attempt it are scarce, and those who were successful might be numbered on the fingers of one hand."

Legolas nodded grimly. "Well do I know this," he said. "Yet I can do nothing else."

"Oh, Legolas," Arwen murmured, and pulled him into an embrace. Their arms tightened round each other, and for a long while they stood like that, swaying slightly with the breeze.

"Does Gimli, too, think that he has a chance of seeing Valinor?" asked Arwen, breaking the gentle silence.

Legolas's laugh was free and musical. "He hopes for my sake, and out of desire to see his Lady, but in truth he does not believe it. He sails to humor the mad Elf whom he calls 'friend.'" Arwen felt her blood warm at the frank tenderness in the Wood-elf's voice.

"What will you do now, Arwen?" asked Legolas suddenly.

"Do?"

"How will you live out your days?"

Arwen drew in a deep breath. "I will not remain in Gondor long," she said. "I will seek Lothlorien, and linger there for a time, and then…" she trailed off, shuddering. Then, seeming to gain more strength, she went on. "I will lay down my life, amidst the trees of what once was the Golden Wood."

Legolas's liquid eyes grew anguished. "You will die like that? Alone, with no comfort and no farewell from those who love you?"

A pearly tear-streaked face confronted him, with lips curved into a resigned smile. "All who die do so alone," said Arwen. "I know that now, as my own death approaches. Death is a solitary journey." Her face grew shadowed. "And I know not the destination."

"But you will not be sundered from Aragorn," said Legolas. "Wherever the destination, he will be there."

"You do not know that, nor does anyone in Middle-earth," said Arwen. "Estel may be there, and that is a comfort beyond words. But what of the rest of my kin?" Her stricken eyes met his. "I will be sundered from them, Legolas. I am as one of the race of Men, and I shall go where they do after death. Even you cannot conjure up some mad hope that I will meet my father and my people again!"

Legolas reached out and gently touched her cheek.

"You underestimate my skill as a conjurer, then," he laughed softly, and her expression changed to one of bemusement. He sobered. "I do not pretend to know what happens to Men after death, any more than you. But I feel certain that all children of the One will be together in the end, though that end be a long way off." He hesitated, and then said, "Aragorn believed that as well." Arwen's face grew wistful. "He was dear to me, too, Arwen."

"I know." Her voice was heavy. "He and all your mortal friends must have been dear indeed, for you to remain and fight the sea-longing all these years. I am sure Estel told you how your presence gladdened him, Legolas. He was grateful you stayed." She paused before adding, "As I was."

His eyes went soft. "And I was most happy to be with all of you."

"Despite the sea-longing?" Arwen threw out challengingly.

"Aye, despite the sea-longing." He smiled at her. "I did not only stay for duty, Arwen. I stayed also for the love of my friends and the love of Middle-earth."

"The love of your friends," she repeated. "Legolas, have you ever wondered"

She broke off.

"Wondered what?"

"If…if you could change the past," she said. "If you could undo everything that brought you to this grief, Legolas—if you could undo your love for Gimli, and…" here she choked, "…and Estel, and the halflings. If you could change things so that you had never joined the Fellowship, and were even now carefree and light of heart in Greenwood, would you do this? Would you have things be other than what they are now?"

Legolas stood in silence for a moment, surrounded by windblown silken hair and curling spires of mist. "Nay," he said softly, just over the murmurs of the wind. "Nay, I would not."

Arwen sighed. "It is like you to feel that way, I suppose."

"You feel differently?" His eyes glinted with curiosity. "You would change things so that you and Aragorn had never met and you were now with your kin?"

"I know not," whispered Arwen. "I know not, and I suppose there is little point in asking myself that question again and again, or trying to weigh my sorrow against my happiness. All I know is that I have chosen thusly, and must wring what joy out of it as I can."

"Yes," said Legolas. "That is all either of us can do."

They gazed at each other for a while longer, each drawing comfort from the other's face. Finally Arwen smiled.

"My time here was happy, my friend."

"And you made Aragorn's time happy as well," he replied. "I remember the time after the War of the Ring, just before you arrived in Gondor. He begged Gimli and the hobbits and me to stay, for he wished us to share in his joy." His eyes sparkled. "He was glad and carefree as a child, Arwen. Almost giddy he was."

"And after arriving I met you all, the friends who had heartened and braced him with their faith. You were a strange company, most especially the halflings." For a moment the shadow on Arwen's face seemed to dissolve. "And you and Gimli were a passing strange pair." The wind sang in their ears a haunting elegy, and the mists swam round their faces. "And afterwards we all lived in happiness and peace for a time. But that time is now ended." The shadow fell again, grayer than before.

"Our days were joyous," whispered Legolas.

"Aye, they were," said Arwen.

And after a long and weighty silence they returned to the palace to await the burial of their tie to Middle-earth.

_The next day, after the funeral of King Elessar of Gondor _

The Queen of Gondor stood tall and mournful as a withering tree in the winter as she faced one who, like herself, had paid with bitter tears for his love.

"And now we must part." Legolas's face darkened with distress, yet his eyes still gleamed with unbroken hope.

"So I will go to my final rest in the woods, and you will go with your doughty Dwarf to bargain with the Valar." Arwen tried to smile, to impart Elvish playfulness into her words, and her voice was a blend of pain and tenderness.

Gimli walked up to where they were. No longer did he have his firm stride of elder days, but the cautious and dignified gait of the old.

"Evenstar," he said. "I am sorry to part with you, and I thank you for the joy of your companionship, as well as the happiness you gave to my friend. Farewell."

"Farewell, Gimli," said Arwen, clasping his shoulder. The Dwarf bowed, and quietly walked away, leaving the Queen to bid goodbye to Legolas.

The two looked at one another for a long moment, sharing in the common sorrow of blighted love.

"Farewell, Arwen, my friend," the Wood-elf finally said. He took her hands in his. "I wish you joy wherever your path now leads. And I am mad enough to hope that we may meet again."

"Farewell, Legolas," she replied softly. He drew her to him and kissed her brow and then they parted, with many a last look and sigh, blown apart like two leaves on the wind.

"_But Arwen went forth from the House, and the light of her eyes was quenched, and it seemed to her people that she had become as cold and grey as nightfall in winter that comes without a star…she went out from the city of Minas Tirith and passed away to the land of Lorien, and dwelt there alone under the fading trees until winter came…There at last when the mallorn-leaves were falling, but spring had not yet come, she laid herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth; and there is her green grave, until the world is changed…" –_JRR Tolkien, The Return of the King, Appendix A.

"_But when King Elessar gave up his life Legolas followed at last the desire of his heart and sailed over Sea…We have heard tell that Legolas took Gimli Gloin's son with him because of their great friendship, greater than any that has been between Elf and Dwarf." –_JRR Tolkien, The Return of the King, Appendix A.


End file.
